Little Lost One
by Runt the Brave
Summary: "The castle had lost its princess, something that never happened in the fairy-tales." Spoilers through 3XK. My demented sense of humor is playing tricks on me again. Meh.


**A/N: You are not allowed to kill me, 'kay? I just figured people might want something to offset the overwhelming about of "Rise" fics that should be pouring into the site after this premiering. And no, "Little Lost One" does not exist. I guess I could make it... Hm... No. Bad. Bad. Too many story ideas!**

**Spoilers: Heavy 3XK, references to Knockdown, and anything before 3XK is fair game.**

_Don't mourn, Daddy. Please don't pretend this never happened. Write me a story, Daddy, write me a story._

"Detective Beckett?" The young police officer looked up from the patch of grass she had been so avidly staring at. Her gaze traveled up the black skirt and top of Alexis's best friend, Paige Hammerlie. The girl's eyes were shot, with angry red tear stains blotching her cheeks five different colors of white, pink and red. Her brown hair looked even more fly-away than the last time Beckett had seen the teenager, at Alexis's girl's-day-out that she had someone ended up tagging along with. "We... we can't find Mr. Castle. Ashley swears he was here just a moment again, and..." Her words tumbled out, jumping on top of each other and spilling over into nothingness. "We were gonna ask Ms. Cowell, but Ashley said you'd know where to find him. We just don't want to start the service without him."

Beckett reached out and laid a hand on the girl's shoulder. Paige looked up, her bloodshot eyes focusing a little. "I'll go find him. You just sit down and don't worry about anything for a little bit." Paige looked like she wanted to argue, but Beckett was in no mood to be disobeyed. She fixed the teenager with a stern glare, watched her until she made her way back to the main group of mourners, and finally took a seat. The Detective scanned the cemetery, forcing herself to keep calm. It would, _of course_, be this cemetery. It would, _of course_, bring back memories of all those awful years. Beckett had further cemented her hypothesis that the universe loved to play sick jokes with her life. She turned her back on the party of mourners and set off across the graveyard, heading closer and closer to the most likely spot to find her errant writer.

The past three days had been torture, in more ways than the ordinary emotional trauma that her job heaped on her head. In all honesty, she was astonished Castle hadn't started to hate her yet, even if she was watching him pull inside of himself, and blame himself, not the one who truly deserved the blame. Beckett sighed. The New York wind buffeted at her arms and tried to tear the jacket from her. She ploughed on. Beckett rounded a clump of trees and saw his humped form, huddled exactly where she had predicted, in front of the grave she dreaded to visit. When she caught sight of him, she stopped. The universe had to be laughing at them now. It had to be playing some cruel joke on the most vulnerable of men. Plucking up what little courage she had left, the detective forced herself to cover the distance to the grave.

He tensed at her approach. She thought about turning around and fleeing. "Beckett." His voice was pleading. Lonely. Lost. "Why did they have to take her? Why do they have to take anyone? I spend so much time around murder and writing about it and... I still don't understand it." A small notebook lay open on the ground in front of him.

Kate knelt beside him and dug her hands into the cold earth over her mother's grave. Had she been asked at that moment by an outsider, why she had found Castle kneeling at the grave of someone he had never met, she would not have been able to explain the reasoning. It just made sense, in a twisted, gruesome kind of way. "I don't know, Castle. Sometimes I think the universe enjoys cheap tricks." He didn't even smile. The past three days had robbed Castle of all his boyish gaiety and fun. He was a somber shell, walking through a world that held no life for him anymore.

When he didn't respond, Beckett picked up the little notebook and flipped back a few pages. He had the neatest, fastest handwriting of any person she knew, but the handwriting in this book was nearly indecipherable. A title. _L__ittle Lost One._ Words. Sentences. Paragraphs. She read the opening pages of what would evidently be a new book, and chills raced through her spine with each word. His writing had always been exceptional. He had always portrayed her world with the gritty reality that came with the late nights, long hours, and often traumatic experiences. But the opening pages of this new book were so undeniably raw. The words were a compilation of all the worst things they had ever experienced. Torture. Fear. The words started to weave the story of a little red-headed girl.

Beckett had an unexplainable emotion race into her stomach and clench into a tighter knot than she had ever felt possible. He was writing for his daughter. All these things... _Alexis._ She looked up at him, tears of anger and rage and sorrow and grief and sympathy coursing down her cheeks. Through her tears, she could see his own stony face, hovering in the space above hers. He took the book back, closed it, and stood. "I suppose they want to start the ceremony now." He pulls her up, and leads her towards the service. That wasn't right, that was supposed to be her job, but she couldn't stop crying. She couldn't stop crying for Alexis.

O.O.O.O.O

The days after the funeral had been especially difficult on the twelfth precinct. Their unofficial mascot had just lost the one thing near and dear to his heart, because of his involvement in a case. The unofficial mascot had stopped coming by the precinct with donuts and coffee and jokes and theories that made everyone smile. They had all seen the crime scene. They all knew why Castle had stopped stopping by. They had all seen that Jerry Tyson made no attempt to hide his identity. The detectives who had the case – as Montgomery had forbidden anyone too closely connected to Castle to take it – even theorized that Tyson _wanted_ it to be known that he was on the move again. Whatever it was, the killer was accomplished at masking his tracks. The Triple Killer had dropped out from under the radar and no one knew where he was. The Castle loft, once so grand in all its glory and richness, now lay a desolate ruin of memories and painful emotions. The castle had lost its princess, something that never happened in the fairy-tales. The fairy-tales were nothing more than pointless dreams now.

The Old Haunt closed most evenings now, as a small group of dedicated supporters gathered to watch over their friend. Javier Esposito came because Castle had evolved into the big brother he'd never had, even if the older man had hurt his sister on occasion' besides, he was never one to pass up free drinks. Kevin Ryan came because he felt guilty, because he missed his pseudo-little-sister, and because he desperately wished he could somehow erase his friend's pain. Lanie Parish came because, hey, it's a family affair and like-it-or-not, Writer Boy was one of her little chickens. Roy Montgomery came because he understood the pain his companion suffered, and he held out a lifeline of experience and knowledge. Jenny came because she desperately wanted to understand the family, and help in whatever way she could. Her stark innocence contrasted the motherly attitude of Evelyn Montgomery, who kept everyone sober and on their feet on most occasions. Castle made an obvious effort to appreciate their concern, but just as obvious was his struggle with accepting their help.

There was only one lifeline he didn't insist on ignoring at every possibility. Katherine Beckett gathered with the others at the Old Haunt because she cared. She came because her boyfriend had asked her not to go. She came because her boyfriend had asked her to choose, and she threw him out of her apartment complex. Literally. She came because she could see herself, mirrored in Castle's eyes. She came because she was the only one he'd let read bits and pieces from his newest story. She came because she missed him by her side, in front of the murder board, spinning endless hours of theory. She came because the two of them would stay later than everyone else, sipping harmless sodas and talking long into the morning about random, trivial things. They joked without smiling, laughed without sound, and worked through the process of grieving side by side. Together.

He didn't become a recluse. She eventually got him to smile, and then laugh, some three weeks after her murder. The sparkle had left his eyes, maybe forever, but he slowly began to put the pieces back together. And neither could deny it. They were both unfinished puzzles, and the other half was their partner. One night, they sat together, quiet in the hush of the Old Haunt. Neither Esposito nor Ryan had joined them tonight, but plucky little Jenny had shown up, bountiful make-up hiding her obviously stained cheeks. The past two months had introduced her to the hard life a cop-wife would face, and Evelyn had been instrumental in keeping the little blonde Irish woman afloat. The case had been difficult, especially on Beckett. She hated the cases that connected to her mother's murder.

He broke the silence with a soft proclamation. "I finished it, _Little Lost One_. I'm moving out of New York when all the deals have been signed." Beckett felt her heart grow cold. She closed her eyes, and tried to combat the overwhelming flood of emotions that raced through her. Why now? Why when things were just starting to pick up did he have to throw a curveball and seemingly dump her on the side of the road. Was he running from the memories? Where would he go? "Europe, I think. I got the British spy offer again." The silence dragged on. Beckett fiddled with her drink, and desperately wished she could find the words to express her emotions. She couldn't. "Kate-" Her head shot up at his usage of her first name. They had been Beckett and Castle for so long now... "Come with me."

No one was really surprised when Richard Edgar Castle moved out of New York.

What surprised the world was that Katherine Beckett went with him.

O.O.O.O.O

_Triumph Out of Tragedy!_

_By Eoin McGraw_

_Today marks the six month anniversary of the death of seventeen-year-old Alexis Castle, murdered on the heals of three more young woman, barely in their twenties. Alexis Castle was the daughter of well-known crime and mystery novelist, Richard Castle. Castle, famous for his series of books following crime-fighting hero Derek Storm, and a second series based off of a real life New York Police Department detective, Nikki Heat. In total, the author has written twenty-four books now, with the advent of his newest story, which has been released today. No one can deny that his daughter's death must have profoundly effected the author, because there's not much I can say about his newest book, _Little Lost One_, besides for a song of praise for its many wonders._

_While the book was only released today just after midnight, _Little Lost One_ has already claimed the top of this week's bestseller list, leaving Patterson's newest novel in the dust. Reader after reader has qued up for their copy of Castle's newest book, and they will not be disappointed. While _Little Lost One _features neither Storm nor Heat, or does it fall under any of Castle's ordinary genres, the horrific story portrays the gruesome reality of life, love, and chocolate chip cookie dough with a startling realism. An esoteric realism, but realism all the same._

_Curious yet? You'll have to read the book._

Little Lost One_ opens in the dark alley, on a stormy night like so many of the stories, but Castle's new book outshines them all. Heroine, the eleven-year-old Hannah Gillis, is trapped in the big, unfriendly city, with no way out. Half a continent away, her parents search for her, desperate to find their little girl. A continent divides the Gillis family, and as time passes, that divide only grows. At an epic length of nearly three hundred thousand words long, the reader stays engaged as Hannah learns to navigate the lowlife, survive the unknowable, and adjust to the worst of circumstances. But can Hannah adjust to the most ordinary circumstance of all?_

_I can assure you, _Little Lost One, _is not a book you want to miss!_

The newly uprooting Katherine Castle stared at the newspaper clipping with apprehension. They had been in Europe all of a week – married for less than that – and already crowds of American fans were clamoring for Castl... – Rick – to return, for a sequel, for anything. How could they want a sequel? The whole point of _Little Lost One_ was the ending! She crumbled the newspaper clipping and threw it into the wastebasket in the corner. Could the fans find nothing wrong with Cas... – and Rick's – boy that was weird, work? She turned from the printer and glared at her new husband. "I'm beginning to understand Martha's obsession with finding the bad review. _Something _needs to keep you grounded."

Rick chuckled. Kate froze. Her hand clenched involuntarily. It was the first sound close to a laugh she had heard since Alexis's death. She turned and faced him, her face an honest expression of surprise. He stood from his trusty old laptop, closed the distance between them, and placed his hands on her waist. "I will heal, Katie. I know it's been rough, and that you've wanted to hit me sometimes, but I promise you, I _will_ heal." And she fell into his arms, nearly crying with relief. He held her, and they spent the rest of the half-year anniversary in each others arms, sharing memories of the red-headed girl that brought them together.

O.O.O.O.O

_Hannah kicked her feet over the side of the hospital bed, and looked around at the overwhelming white room. She stared down at her empty neck. No necklace. They'd taken Raven's toering! Panic raced through the little girl's heart. In a blind fury, she jumped from the bed and spun around, taking in the entire room before bolting to the nearest exit. She tried the handle. It didn't turn. "Let me out! Let me out! Let me out!" Her voice never made it past her lips. Silent as a mouse, just like Raven had taught her. The girl sank away from the door and curled around herself in the corner. One hand crept up to her throat, and the scarring that Raven had promised would keep her alive. It had._

_She was alive so far._

_The door opened, and Hannah fought a reflexive wince. It was him. The police officer who picked her off the streets and threatened to shoot Raven. Maybe he had her toering. "Hello, I'm Officer Mark. Can you say that for me?"_

Not until I get my toering back,_ Hannah pouted and refused to open her mouth. Not that she could speak, even if she wanted to._

"_We've found your family."_

You threatened to shoot my family! _Hannah wanted to cry. Maybe if she cried, that would kill her. Raven had promised that the slit through would keep her alive. Take away the voice, take away the threat, survive on the streets._

"_Your name is Hannah, isn't it? Hannah Gillis?" The officer asked, a smile on his face. The smile made him look stupid. "You're family is flying in from North Dakota right now. They'll be here soon. They missed you." _That _family. Reflexively, Hannah jerked away, but her back hit a solid wall. Cornered. Trapped. Her flight reflex triggered. She ran towards the officer, because he stood between her and the door. She threw herself between his legs, out the door, and into the hallway. The hospital scared her. She picked a direction and started running._

_Unfamiliar, strong hands caught her and held her tight. Again, a scream died in her throat._

O.O.O.O.O

It was the one year anniversary, and the Castles were back in New York City. They had been for two days now. A party had been cobbled together, which put the Old Haunt in the black, since Castle refused to pay for the multiple cops' drinks. The Old Haunt was not a cop bar. It just transferred into one on special occasions. Montgomery still ran the twelfth precinct. Jenny had truly adjusted to being a cop-wife even if she hadn't adjusting to being seven months pregnant. Esposito and Lanie were firmly on the way to unofficially tying the knot, as both swore they'd never actually get married. It was the same old New York City, with the same colors and lights, skyline and nightlife, but it missed the most important thing in Castle's opinion. And Kate's. As much as she loved the city, she had changed so much in the past year. She had let someone in; she wasn't Beckett anymore.

He and Kate didn't stay at their hotel the night before the anniversary. They walked around the city, took cab after cab through the familiar landscape, and compared their old world to the life abroad. At midnight, they went to the cemetery. Castle was quiet, and refused to talk the closer they got to his daughter's grave. When they finally stood over the year-old-headstone, Castle murmured, "She would have hated Hannah."

"She would have loved the story," Kate countered. She knelt down and laid a chocolate chip cookie by the girl she was never able to call her step-daughter. She stepped back and kissed her husband's cheek. "I'm going to go talk to Mom. Call me if you need anything." She moved off, and left Castle to have a conversation with his daughter. The only words she heard were, "Hey Alexis."

Castle knelt by the headstone and ran his hand over the grass. "I wrote Rachel talking to Derek's grave. I never imagined how awful this would feel. I miss you, honey. I miss your advice and your humor and your hair. I just miss you." He choked back a sob. "I hope you aren't mad about Kate. I don't think you would, unless you where mad you never got to call her mom. The two of you... that really would have been perfection, wouldn't it?" He paused, and then searched for the words to continue. "Have you read _Little Lost One _from up in heaven? Everyone thinks I wrote Hannah based on you. I didn't really. She's me. And you're Raven. Without the crime and self-mutilation thing. Stuff. Whatever. Do you even understand that?" He took a breath. "It's so hard, 'Lexi, knowing that you're never going to go to college, never get married and have kids of your own. I miss you, so much." He sat back, and let the silence consume him. Much of the remaining pain and grief washed away, leaving behind only a newly built man, who held every beloved memory of his little princess.

O.O.O.O.O

"_Never, ever going swimming, you got that, little cub?"_

_Hannah nodded, but her attention was still fixed on the silver ring that Raven had dropped in her hand that morning. She twisted it between her fingers and tried to slip it on her pinky. The ring was too big. Raven's big hands clamped down over the small girl's fidgeting fingers. Hannah looked up and stared into Raven's eyes. The woman pulled a piece of string from her pocket, slid the string through the ring, and tied the whole necklace around the little girl's neck. Hannah's eyes sparkled._

"_Now, go get some cash," Raven ordered. "And be sure you don't get seen!"_

_Eager to start and proud of her new ring, Hannah dashed off, disappearing into the dismay city streets._

_Raven's eyes sparkled as she watched her new prodigy dart off._

O.O.O.O.O

Sixth months after the release of _Little Lost One_, crowds eagerly awaited what the media had been calling the sequel to the sixth month best selling novel. Most in the crowd had no idea what to expect. They were expecting a second book. What they found, was a digital recording between the famous author, a short, wiry, red-headed girl who the crowds instantly knew was Alexis Agathe Castle. The two frolicked through the open space of an apartment building, laughing and joking. They exchanged blows with words, sparring verbally about grammar, life, literature and the world around them. Crowds watched. They heard lines from Raven and thoughts from little Hannah repeated back at them, as if parroted from the story, but they knew that was impossible. The story was written after Alexis. Some of the more intelligent fans caught that many of Alexis's lines seemed to copy Raven, and many of Hannah's thoughts were words that came directly from the author. This puzzled them.

Kate watched what her husband had prepared with tears in her eyes; he had insisted that she not see any of his recording until the rest of the world saw it. She had seen much of herself in _Little Lost One,_ much of Castle, and much of the girl she longed with all her heart to call daughter. The story was a story of them, twisted and hidden in the subtle way that Castle was so good at. He crept up behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Doing okay?"

She leaned against his shoulder. "Aren't I suppose to ask you that?"

"You do know this isn't going to satisfy the fans," Kate pointed out.

"Only the smart ones. They'll get it."

Kate smiled.

Castle kept talking. "They'll get it that pain always makes you stronger. They'll understand, and believe, that they can keep reaching upward and adapting and fighting through pain." He played with a lock of her hair. "Reach for the stars," Castle whispered, in her ear. And Kate turned to him, and recited the last line of _Little Lost One._

"_Because if you miss, it's only the universe playing a practical joke on you."_


End file.
